Snippet #371603

Ratch sighed loudly. He hated the night time. It was so boring, inactive, and uneventful...and worst of all, he couldnt sleep. It drove him mad simply lying in bed, waiting for sleep to embrace him. He couldnt do it. He needed to do something untill he felt tired. He rose from his bed, pushing his blankets from his form. He got dressed quickly and quietly, putting on his usual outfit. He strapped on his boots, and opened his bedroom window. He felt the cool night breeze, causing him to smile. He liked the cold better than the heat. He walked to his bed again, reaching under it. He pulled out his harness and all of his gear. He fastened it onto himself taking quick inventory, before nodding to himself. He walked to the window, gripping the top of the frame, and lifting his legs, swinging out of the house, landing on the ground only a few feet from the the window. He smirked, closing the window, leaving it barely cracked for later. He started out onto the cobblestone road, and began to walk.

He lived in the village town closest to the castle, and he knew the castle wasnt far. He also knew the Prince: Elegost. They didnt know eachother personally, nor had they ever spoken. But he had seen and heard the man. Ratch thought most nobles could be stabbed with rusted nails, but the Prince wasnt all bad. At least he had a good blade arm, supposedly. Beyond that, he cared not for nobles. He continued thinking as he moved down the completely dark street. He needed to work on his own weaponry. And he had just the place in mind.

Ratch reached his destination: A small outpost outside of the town. It was little more than a watchtower, and a storehouse, but it had been abandoned for a while. The Tonstrian army had deserted it for unknown reasons, but never took it back. Ratch found it odd...especially now that Zadonia and Tonstria were at war. But he didnt care either way. He now had a little hangout. He walked into the middle of the grounds, and looked around. Sure enough. Deserted. He smirked to himself. He walked to the warehouse, and pushed open the door. It was pitch-black inside, and hard to distingush what was what. He stumbled into the darkness, and felt his surroundings, before his hand hit something. It was metal. He felt along its shape....it was a lantern. Perfect! Now...to find something to light it. His hand ventured further along untill it hit another metal object. He grasped it firmly in his hand, and brought it close to his face. He was in luck; it was a flint striker. He moved back over to the lantern, and opened it up. It wasnt hooded, luckily, so he reached inside, and struck the flint a few times against the striking rod, and sparks rose from the rock, catching quickly to the wick. The room was illuminated to him, and he looked around. The room was filled with dust, and rats skittered from the rays of light.

Ratch walked back outside, placing the light on a nearby barrel, letting the radiating light fill about a twenty foot radius around it. Ratch could now see enough for his purpose. He wasnt going to do anything extensive, simply practice a bit. He pulled his axe from his back, taking his fighting stance. He imagined his foe in front of him; a Zadonian knight, covered in chainmail armor. He swung at his make-believe target, bringing his axe down in a wide crecsent. "One!" he counted aloud as he brough his axe back to his ready stance, before swinging again, repeating as quickly as possible. "Two! Three! Four!..." He continued. It wasnt much of a practice as it was an exercise. He went on untill he hit 50. He then switched from vertical strikes to horizontal ones. Swinging back and forth....he repeated this as well, the same as before.

After he had gotten in his axe swings, he worked on his next weapon. He put his axe on his back, and walked over to the lantern. He picked up a barrel beside the one that was bearing the lamp. He drug it over to the center of the light. He took a few steps back to the border of the luminated ring. He reached to his belt, and pulled out a fairly large hunk of lead. It was very heavy for it's size, as dense as lead is. He gripped the ball tightly, before leaning back...he took a large step forward, and pitched the lead right at the barrel. The barrel gave way to the mass against it, and broke, making a sizable hole in the barrel. It was hollow, so nothing flowed out. Ratch only grinned, as he rubbed his throwing shoulder. It was an impressive throw, and it would be least to say, anyone hit by the projectile would be stunned in the least. Bone wasnt much tougher than wood, so if the foe was unarmored, he might be able to cripple them... He walked to the barrel, and reached inside the hole, reaquiring the ball, before slipping it back into it's pouch.

He turned the barrel around, and pulled out a unique 'toy'. His boomerang with pointed tips. He wheeled his arm back, and hurled the curved bladed...curve... at the barrel. The makeshift weapon flew to the side, and missed it's target entirely. "Still need some work with that thing." He said aloud to himself. "Though, I couldnt throw those things in the first place." He walked, and reclaimed the boomerang, before hooking it again on his belt.

Lastly, was his second favorite weapon, only next to his axe...he had actually made the item from a blacksmith's scraps, and an old leather glove. It was a glove, covered in steel hunks. It was a makeshift cestus, except...less spikey. He pulled the glove on over his normal handwear, seeing how it was a little bigger anyway, and clenched his fist. It fit well. He walked to the barrel. Stopping about two feet from it. He then took a large step towards the barrel, and yelled fiercely. "Ruuuah!" he cried out as the metal fist contacted with the barrel, causing it to tumble back a few feet. It was hollow, so it was no surprise that it went distance. He went to examine the barrel, which was now on it's side. No break. Not even a crack. Ratch was strong, but not enough to simply break a reinforced barrel. He shrugged, and set the barrel up again, again assualting it with a punch.

This time, he left the barrel on the ground, and put a foot on it, as if he was holding an enemy down. He then began to pummel the face of his imaginary foe, blow after blow. The flow of his punches began to slow, as his wollops began to weaken. He panted, and dealt one last solid blow to the barrel. He looked down at the target. The wood had cracked against his assault, causing him to smile madly. After all that, he finally began to break the barrel. The pride he felt was unbelievable, and seemed to give him a second wind. "Haha! How do you like me now, barrel!?" He pushed off on the container, and watched the barrel roll into the distance, out of the sphere of light. He panted, still tired after the assault. He smirked, knowing he could cause injury with his fist...or as long as he had his special glove weapon.

Finally, he felt a tad tired. He walked over, and picked up the lantern, and walked over to the watch tower. He placed the handle in his mouth, holding it with his teeth, and began to climb the ladder. Once he reached the top, he took the lantern from his mouth, and set it on the ground. There was just enough room up here for the boy to strech out all the way, which he did. He pressed his back to a wall, and let his legs strech all the way. His eyes began to close...

And he waited. And waited. But yet still sleep didnt take him. He groaned in annoyance, before standing up again. He looked out from the watch tower, his eyes on the horizon. He supposed he'd have to wait to fall asleep....